All That I Am
by malfoys
Summary: Draco believed Hermione was settling for less than what she deserved, but how could he tell her that after all these years? Chaptered, not yet complete. DH compliant, pre-epilogue. Draco/Hermione


A/N: This fic takes place after DH, however it's not compatible with the epilogue. This first chapter has a bit of Ron/Hermione in it, but this story is all Draco/Hermione. Enjoy. Constructive criticism is most welcome. :) Also, I am looking for a beta. Send me a message if you think you could help me. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter that is referenced in this fic or any of its chapters.

----

Draco sat on the hard, wooden church bench, his mind swimming with contempt as he eyed the man he had hated for so long. The filthy ginger stood by the altar, clad in some awful excuse for dress robes, smiling like a damned idiot. Draco stifled a yawn, wondering just what was he doing here. People who he had spent every year while he was in school hating surrounded him. He had made a stupid decision accepting that invitation. And yet, how could he refuse it? He thought back to a couple days ago, when he first received it.

----

He was awoken that morning by a scrawny, poor excuse for an owl pecking at his window. He sat up in bed, staring at the creature curiously. No one he knew owned an owl like that. No, not one of his friends would be caught dead owning an owl like that. It clutched the red envelope in its claws as it tried, pathetically, to keep its balance on the windowsill. Draco reluctantly opened the window, and the bird dropped the letter into his hand with relief, climbing into his room. Draco glared at the owl as it perched upon his window seat, daring it to even think about ruining the expensive upholstery. It kept watch over him with wide, yellow eyes as Draco scanned over the red parchment, a letter adorned with beautifully written script.

_Dearest friend,_

_I am happily sending you this invitation, hoping to find you in good health. It is with great joy that I announce my marriage to Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley this Saturday, the ninth of October. I would be overjoyed if you took the time out of your busy schedule to attend the wedding. If this invite is accepted (which you can do so by using the owl from whence this letter arrived), then I will send back to you specialized Floo Powder. You can use this Floo Powder to be transported to the chapel where the ceremony will be held. I sincerely hope you will accept this invitation!_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

He stared long and hard at the letter, not really comprehending the words. Finally, he reached the name written at the bottom, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Hermione Granger. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to be sure he wasn't seeing this. It was there, clear as day. Hermione Granger. He examined each letter, letting his eyes caress over each one. Hermione Granger... So many thoughts leapt into his brain at once at those two words.

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the slanted signature to actually read the letter. He read it over four times after catching himself staring at the name each time. Finally, he understood.

He scowled at the first name in the letter. Ron Weasley. Ron the weasel was everything he hated. The weasel was a friend of that Potter boy, the 'boy who lived'. The boy who sentenced his father to death at the hands of the dementors at Azkaban prison. Not only that, but Ron Weasley was a disgrace to the wizarding community; he was nothing but a lower class, muggle sympathizing, unintelligent fool. And yet, here he was, marrying Hermione Granger, who was so very unlike Ron.

Hermione Granger... That name echoed in Draco's mind. Yet, when memories of her sprang up for him to relive, he shook them away viciously. He had tried for so long to forget about her. He stared hatefully at the parchment. She had ignored him for so long, and now she writes him an invitation to her wedding? The gall.

This didn't stop him from scribbling a hasty acceptance note. He didn't even sign it. He just forced it at the owl, who took it wearily, glad to leave. Then Draco lay back down in his bed, examining the letter once more. He read the beautifully written name on the front of the envelope, and sure enough, it belonged to him. Draco Malfoy. Written in the well-practiced handwriting of Hermione Granger. It stung at his heart to think that she still remembered him.

----

That's how Draco found himself seated in a pew at a church, trying to make time slow down with his mind. He played clumsily with the ring on his finger: a family heirloom given to him from his father, Lucius, before he was sent away to Azkaban.

It was one of the few objects of value to Draco. Everything else that he owned could be easily replaced. This ring, however, meant the world to him. It symbolized his position as the new head of the Malfoy family, and how it was his duty to continue the pureblood lineage. It symbolized his deep love for his mother, now that she had no one else. And last of all, it symbolized his father.

He never did like his father much. He was much too strict and unaffectionate. Not that Draco yearned for affection; he got plenty of that from his mother, Narcissa. Lucius had just always seemed like a cold person to him. He would leave Draco and his mother alone for months at a time. Draco remembered the nights where he would happen upon his mum crying silently in the parlor, alone. He felt terrible, and the thought of her being upset haunted him for weeks, but he didn't know what he could do. He'd never been shown a stitch of comfort; therefore he was unsure of how to console even his own mother. It was just one of those things he blamed Lucius for: his mother's pain, his inability to express even the slightest emotion, and, worst of all, his absolute hate of failure.

Draco was driven to be the best at everything for all his life. He was taught to hate those of lower class: the mudbloods, the muggles, and the poor. It was how he believed every boy of his age and status should feel. He was born into one of the most prestigious pureblood families ever. He was of Malfoy lineage, thereby, he was destined for greatness. The Dark Lord himself even believed it.

And Draco lived up to the Malfoy name. That was, until he met a certain mudblood. The mudblood who's wedding he was attending at that very minute. Hermione Granger.

He remembered the first time he laid eyes upon her at Hogwarts, as a bushy headed, first-year brat. She was sitting next to the disgusting Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, after the Sorting Hat had just called out her house. After that night, he always wondered why she was sorted into that detestable Gryffindor house when she possessed so many traits commonly found in those nerdy Ravenclaw students. Every time a professor asked a question, her hand shot up. Draco hated it. Every single professor he had would, of course, call on her first, and she would, of course, answer the question _precisely _right every time. She was an annoying, know-it-all mudblood and he loathed her.

At least, he loathed her until around the beginning of his fourth year at that school. Yes, he, Draco Malfoy, the soon-to-be head of the purest wizarding family there was, began to harbor a _crush _on Hermione Granger. He did not know how it happened, he did not know when exactly it happened, it all just kind of… sprung upon him somehow. It was a very complicated matter, and he never–EVER–let these feelings show, to her, to his parents, to himself, to _anyone_. At least… he never did until the beginning of the Second Wizarding War.

But that didn't matter now. She was getting married to Ron Weasley and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he could do anything about it, he would break his mother's heart, ruin the Malfoy name, be sought out and murdered by the few Death Eaters that still existed, and probably be haunted by his dead father. It was simply unfeasible, him even thinking of liking someone like her, someone born to _muggle_ parents.

So, he forced those thoughts out of his mind and sat back against the cold wooden bench and glanced around the half-full church. He was seated at the very back of the building; no one sat anywhere near to him. He didn't mind this; it wasn't like he _liked_ any of these people anyways.

His eyes scanned over the crowd of people in front of him. In the very first pew, he recognized, with a sickening lurch in his stomach, the messy black head of hair that belonged to none other than Harry Potter. Of course, the entire passel of the Weasley family had shown up, igniting the left side of the church with a sea of red hair. Granger's silly, muggle mother sat near to Harry, ogling at the faeries held inside jars on either side of the altar that were being used as lamps, and shaking hands with the various house elves who were rushing around this way and that to finish the final preparations.

It really was ridiculous, Draco Malfoy being there amongst _these_ people.

He watched as Potter stood up, whispered something in Weasley's ear. Ron turned towards Potter with this dumb expression, and Harry responded by jerking his head in Draco's direction. Draco smirked as Ron turned his stupid face towards him. He laughed as he imagined the two wondering why Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and their biggest childhood enemy, was attending Weasley's wedding.

Draco turned his view back towards his ring when he saw Potter making his way through to aisle towards him. He twisted it around, tracing the intricate 'M' with his fingers.

"Malfoy, can I speak with you for a minute?" Potter whispered through gritted teeth.

Draco looked up innocently, entwining his hands together and setting them down in his lap, "Well, I don't know, can you?"

Harry ignored this. He took a seat next to Draco in the booth, making sure not to get too close. "Why the bloody _hell _are you here?" he snarled.

Draco simply shrugged his shoulders and frowned, "I was invited."

He completely gave up his whispering act, and practically shouted at Draco this time, "Invited? You were not, you dirty liar! Neither Ron nor Hermione would ever even _think_ of inviting someone like y-"

He was cut off by the opening notes of the classic Wedding March. How unoriginal, Draco thought. He made a mental note to throw the most extravagant, non-traditional wedding when he got married, just to show up Weasley. _If_ he ever married, that is. He loved bachelorhood just too much right now to even consider marriage.

Harry turned around towards the entrance of the church, mouth agape in that dumb expression Draco despised so much. Draco turned too, just to see what Potter thought was so amazing that it demanded need of this dazed look.

His eyes widened, taking in the sight of Hermione Granger. She was dressed in a traditional wedding gown with her hair tamed back for once in her life. Hooked to her arm was her muggle father, grinning like a loon. But Draco blocked him out, focusing only on Hermione.

She looked beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as some of the girls Draco had seen, but beautiful all the same. It was like the Yule Ball, part two. She treaded down the aisle, smiling brilliantly at all her guests.

Draco smirked as she passed him; he saw her notice him, then she quickly turned away. Ah, Draco thought, don't be rude to your guests now, Granger.

As she passed, Draco turned his attention back to Weasley. He was standing stick-straight, with his mouth hanging open in a kind of smile. It was absurd looking. Draco had to stifle a snigger. Harry dragged his eyes away from the painfully happy scene in order to smack Draco and hiss 'shh!'.

Hermione finally reached the altar, where her father passed her off to Ron. Draco slumped in his seat, suddenly feeling very bored and out of place. Why had he come to this pitiful ceremony in the first place? Everything seemed so tacky and poverty-stricken, right down to the guests.

He suddenly began to feel sorry for Granger. She could've done so much better than this, he found himself thinking.

The ceremony began, and Draco caught himself dozing off several times. It was rude, but what could you expect of a man who was used to lavish, extravagant weddings?

He woke up just in time to see the exchanging of the rings. Both rings looked like hideous, hand-me-down junk from what Draco could see.

Then, before Draco could even prepare for it, Ron and Hermione shared a kiss.

Draco felt his heart sink. He stared, not really at them, more like a little bit behind them. Despite this, he could still definitely see them. He definitely saw Ron; with his dirty hands all over Hermione like this was some kind of porno. He looked around, wondering if everyone else thought this was as inappropriate as he did. But no, everyone looked like it was completely normal for a couple to practically snog right on the church steps.

Draco rubbed his eyes. Was this _really_ happening? And why did he feel this burning sensation in his throat? He felt like he was going to be sick any second now.

It was like the kiss lasted for all eternity. It was disgusting, really.

It was _definitely_ all too disgusting for Draco's tastes. So, he got up, and marched straight out of the church.


End file.
